A girl with the sun of her youth
at her back,
and the shadow of her womanhood
before her on the stones,
is approaching with a delicate
clip clop clack;
her sandals full of toes
that I suppose are headed home.

It’s early in the evening
and up and down the river
people begin to gather,
pearls of laughter
on a strand.
I thought solitude would save me,
it was pious,
it was grand,
but the monk that walked beside me
just let go of my hand.

- Ani DiFranco